We are on the way to Alberobello, a quaint town inland in Puglia, Italy, a town which looks like it came out of a fable. The conic shape homes cover the Itria Valley like a carpet. One of the beauties of the small towns in Italy is the weekly street market, where one can buy anything from food to clothing to housewares and more.
The day started really nice, sunny and beautiful, the trip down the Itria Valley is pleasant, the American group traveling with me is singing along with the driver and myself. We arrive in Alberobello and the weather change abruptly. A strong cold wind picked up, my spring clothes feel out-of-place and my American group is feeling the cold I am feeling. A warm espresso, or cappuccino I thought would warm me up, but the attempt fails until I saw the street market. I am now flying to the area leaving everybody behind to look for closed shoes to replace my sandals. Ah, how much I miss street markets! Customers can stop and talk to the vendors, Italian markets are a place to meet an occasional friend or a place to spend a few hours doing nothing, just looking around.
Nicola, the lad in one of the stand chats me up thinking I am American. The day doesn’t look like would be profitable for sales even though prices are such bargains. It’s hard to resist and guess what? With those prices I wanted to buy more than one pair, then I thought of luggage weight restrictions and I stopped, but for a while I was enjoying trying on many pairs while the rest of the Americans are immersing themselves in the market views.
Of course I had to buy the white glitzy pair for a glitzy woman like myself, only to regret it a few minutes later after I paid and started to walk. I feel the bright white is too white for the grey weather and my clothes of today don’t really match, but the rest of the clothes in my hotel don’t match either, as I discovered later. I am doomed to wear the tanks, the weather continues to be windy, cold and occasionally rainy. The following days, I made constant funny comments on my white shoes looking like war tanks on my feet and not being very elegant. Probably, I made my American group self-conscious about their shoes too, they might have felt their shoes were not appropriate for walking in Italy either. Italians and our shoes! Style first.
I am happy that on this day the street market helped me getting rid of my cold feet, that I helped Nicola making a bit of money and since it is early in the morning, perhaps I am one of the first to push his sales forward. Nicola asked me not to publish on Facebook the photo with me and my arm around him, his fiance’ would not like it. Cute mama’s boy!
Those glitz for sure are making my walking on cobblestones and ancient Roman streets much easier, but they are in my face constantly. Ciao,
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I am writing a travel diary of my last trip to Puglia with an American group and sharing with all of you my notes of feelings, observations, food-wine tasting and experiences that have changed the life of people traveling with me. The trips I organize are made for people who want to live it up in Puglia! Check out my books on